Every Taboo
by Blind-Hasegawa
Summary: Arthur/ Yao. The intense love affair between a bored Englishman and a young, strong-willed prostitute named Yao Wang.
1. Chapter 1

"R-r-r-r-gr," Yao purred. With his small hands, he pulled the Englishman towards the bed.

"That little hole better be _dripping_ for me," Arthur growled. _You monster_, that voice inside his head threw at him again, but he could ignore it this time entirely.

He lifted up the soft, loose fabric of the blanket on the bed and, after a moment's hesitation, threw it over his and the Chinese boy's heads. Yao squirmed, but Arthur pulled him snugly inside, trapping him against his bare midriff. Arthur's breath was hot and humid against the boy's flesh as he pulled at his clothes, feverishly undressing him; all the while, Yao was maneuvering coyly out of the Englishman's grasp, covering his bare chest with kisses. When they were both naked, a large palm found the nape of Yao's neck, and he was pulled forward.

Yao felt a tongue descending on one nipple. Tears nearly sprang to his eyes, as the Englishman was being so gentle—he shuddered at the sensation. Arthur's lips were soft, his tongue smooth and very wet, his teeth barely noticeable at first. As he started to nip gently upwards, towards the curve of Yao's neck, Arthur encased the boy within his arms; Yao could feel the Englishman's heart beating fast against one sharp shoulder-blade.

"I have something more to give you," Arthur said. "Turn around, child."

Following the command, the boy moved to lie on his stomach, where Arthur laid his cheek above the small of Yao's back, the fine strands of his blond hair kissing all over it. The boy stiffened as a large hand trailed to his entrance. Yao's grasp on the sheets tightened as Arthur began to massage his entrance, his knuckles pushing between his cheeks and corkscrewing him. All the while, his free hand was stroking Yao's lower belly; Yao's member grew hard.

"No," Yao gasped, and Arthur grinned against the boy's sharp shoulder blades. Slyly inserting his own, much larger member against Yao's entrance, he inserted it roughly.

"Shhh," Arthur breathed into Yao's skin, above Yao's high-pitched wail of "_Noooo_!"

Arthur pinned down the flailing child, feeling joyous little prickles of excitement as Yao struggled against the iron grip around his waist. Deeper and deeper he inserted into Yao, eliciting in him a strange thrill as he saw his member disappearing, increment by increment—

"Ahhhh! AHHHH!" Yao screamed, and one hand wrapped around his mouth, muffling the cries, while the other stroked his member. A trickle of tears hit Arthur's gagging hand as he grunted in frustration—the boy was tight, and so dry; in his fevered impatience he had not prepared the child properly at all.

"Please!" Yao half-sobbed behind Arthur's hand. Arthur held onto him only tighter, pushing through the discomfort. "You're splitting me in _half_!" Arthur winced once or two, persisting until the small passage could accommodate his organ perfectly. The sensation was overwhelming; proving more than what the boy could endure.

When the boy came, Arthur felt the muscles contracting around his own member, and with a loud grunt he followed, squirting into the boy until there was nothing left. Yao sobbed into the sheets, his small body wracked; as Arthur pulled away, a warm reflux of semen trickled down the boy's thighs.

"I love you," Arthur said to that little face, half-hidden behind a curtain of black silken strands.

_Monster_.

"I love you, Arthur," the exquisite little voice came, only slightly muffled from the sheets.

Staring at the naked child, Arthur was unable to tear his eyes away. How lovely Yao was; how very striking. He wanted to seize hold of him, pin him down and… and… do this to him _over and over_ tonight…

Yao let out a dry sob as he turned to fully face Arthur. His golden eyes were swimming in tears.

"Shh. Come here," Arthur whispered, and the child came over to him, obediently and meekly. The minute Arthur had wrapped his arms around the child, Yao closed his eyes and began breathing in a more relaxed manner.

"Go to sleep, Precious," the Englishman sighed, and that voice in his head, far from calming down, only seemed to grow in volume and hatred.

His passion spent, Arthur was able to more closely examine the little prize in his arms, one hand caressing the moon-shaped face in loving detail. Yao lay cradled in his arms, apparently asleep, his long, lush eyelashes unmoving.

Arthur combed his fingers through the hair, admiring all the unexpected colors to be found in it, hidden inside the deep, deep black: rich shades of dark blue, nearly indigo; wisps of cobalt, a single, strange strand of auburn. The boy's skin, nestled against his, was like nothing he'd ever seen. On every limb, on the boy's small stomach and hips, it smelled luxuriously aromatic; his thin pubic hairs were shiny with sweat and semen.

_Preying on innocents… you're the lowest of the low._

As Arthur drifted off to sleep, he was plagued with a sudden, dreadful anxiety that he'd somehow never see the boy again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Early one morning, as rain pounded the sides and roof of the high-class Sacred Lotus, a small Japanese man soundlessly made his way towards one of the whorehouse's back rooms. A few minutes later, sighing to himself, the man emerged, clasping a heavy sheaf of leaflets in his scrawny arms. He headed to his usual work area behind the front desk, pushing aside his chair so that it squeaked.

The minutes ticked by as the Japanese man immersed himself in the signing and filing of each sheet of paper. He was so lost in his work that he failed to notice the door screeching open, and a series of heavy footsteps marching towards him.

"COUGH!"

"Alfred?" The man finally looked upwards. He pushed back his chair. "What can I do for you?"

With a hard flick of his right wrist, the towering blond man agitated specks of rainwater off his glasses, before settling them back on his nose. He squinted as he removed his hat. From across the desk, deep blue eyes stared hard into the Japanese's smoky ones, as the American wriggled out of his bomber jacket as well. "You _know_ what I came here for, Kiku."

As though bemused, Kiku continued to smile and stare amiably upwards towards the American man, who was at least a foot taller than he was. Alfred waited, but as the other man remained silent, he grew impatient and cleared his throat. "The arrangement we talked about earlier today. When I got you on the phone this mor—"

"Ah, yes." Kiku slowly capped his pen before putting it in the drawer; each movement was so methodical, it was as though he were performing some type of tai chi. "That." The drawer seemed stuck; Kiku raised it upwards a bit before sliding it fully in successfully. "Well," he glanced upwards again, his expression unchanged, "I thought I alluded to certain complications that you might not be able to comprehend."

"Certain complications?" Alfred parroted back.

"Many, in fact." Kiku sighed as he took out another sheet of paper and began studying it, avoiding Alfred's persistent gaze. "In fact, another has just occurred to me. You are familiar with our sister house, the SuFin House?" Kiku's eyes sparkled as he mentioned the large whorehouse only a few streets down. "We have, if not exactly a contract, but a mutual understanding between us. Now, Mr. Jones," he enunciated slowly, "you, who appear to be so keen to acquire Yao's—er—_talents_—must be aware. Yao is a popular attraction, a main _draw-card_, if you will, at the SuFin, where we let him work two weekends out of the month. If he were to, say, simply disappear… well, our proprietors are at the SuFin would be most upset."

"But you're doing _them_ a favor, by lending him to them in the first place."

"Business is business, and fostering strong ties is essential to our mutual survival. The child is quite valuable. You do agree that the SuFin would feel the burn in their pockets?"

_You're an insane tightwad_, Alfred wanted to reply, but he bit his tongue. Instead, his eyes roved around the room as he stared at the various pornographic pictures that were hung up along the walls. Although the majority portrayed various young, beautiful men and women of every size and shape, splaying their limbs in different erotic poses, he could not have felt more indifferent than, say, if he were touring some incredibly dry pottery museum exhibit.

Alfred averted his fine eyes.

"These are just details that I can easily take care of, Kiku. Can't we…." Here Alfred trailed off, trying to search for the right words, what would force the other man to utter the only word he cared to hear: _yes_. "Can't we call Yao down here himself? This is _his_ future we're talking about, after all."

Kiku had picked up another scrap of paper. "Alfred, there is one more point. You haven't considered the possibility that… well… that Yao might not prefer him?" He raised one silky black eyebrow. "Or—pardon—_you_, even, Alfred?"

"Kiku, please. Do me this favor—for Arthur won't stop talking about him. From one—" Alfred suddenly reached out, placing his hand over Kiku's hand. He raised the pale hand to his lips and paused as he closed his eyes. The lips descended gracefully onto the white knuckles. "Call him down." Slowly, he returned the other man's hand down on the desk.

"I've been the owner of the Sacred Lotus for over ten years, Mr. CFO of Kirkland Enterprises. I have built this business into one of the most well-recognized bathhouse establishments in all of Western Europe." Kiku's gaze remained blunt; yet, a smile tempted the corners of his mouth. "What… _happened_ between us was ages ago; I'm no longer privy to your—"

"And have I ever betrayed you?" Alfred's grip on Kiku's hand remained steadfast. He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of black hair behind the other man's ear; whispering in a lower voice, "This sort of thing requires utmost trust in you on my part, as I know you retain complete trust in _my_ word."

As Alfred pulled away, Kiku leveled his gaze at the American; there was absolutely no indication of what he was thinking behind those depthless black eyes.

_Give him over, give him over_.

The Japanese man had risen soundlessly to his feet. Alfred's eyes squinted as they followed the Japanese's retreating back. Kiku had pulled behind a filmy carmine curtain to reveal a back room, whereupon Alfred noticed several silken ropes dangling from the ceiling. Kiku reached out and seized the red one, giving it a good hard tug.

Breathlessly, Alfred waited, mentally blocking out the shuffling, knocking sounds, and lewd giggles that were now echoing more clearly throughout the house (no doubt, the other whores were conducting their first business transactions of the day). He glimpsed a shadow emerging from the stairs. Was it…?

Yes.

The slip of the Chinese boy was making his way down the stairs; the front of his shirt was splattered with water that he'd apparently used to recently wash his face, and his long hair was tied back carelessly with a red silk ribbon. The boy had a scowl on his face, which he pointed accusingly towards Kiku behind the desk. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell on Alfred; and then a most tender look of recollection almost immediately replaced the scowl.

"Sir, we know each other, do we not?" Yao asked softly, while lowering his gaze; displaying the fruits of his rigid, formal training by Kiku.

Alfred stared at the boy, into those fringed, fawn-like, golden eyes. A draft from the ceiling fan in the room had blown up several silk strands of dark hair, which were floating across Yao's cheeks and down his naked neck. That neck in particular looked so fragile and slender—

_Concentrate, man, concentrate_.

But before Alfred could utter a word, Kiku said, "How would you like to go away and live with the English, Yao?"

Alfred ground his teeth—even if he were the boy's owner, who was Kiku to word it in such a careless way?

"I beg your pardon?" Despite the cool tone, Yao's face had blanched slightly, and his smile seemed to become more brittle.

"Mr. Jones here has a certain _proposition_ for you, dear," his master explained.

"Yao," Alfred butt in, his face glowing, dropping the polite and formal façade, "this is your most lucky day. You may recall from a few months back, my cousin Arthur—the one with the brows— came to pay you a visit." (Why was the child looking even paler, if that were possible?) "He … We're here to… well…" Why should he mince words? "He would like to have you live with us. I'm here to rescue you," he finished in a strong voice.

At these words, Yao's face fell. The sudden disappearance of his smile and sweet, coy mannerisms seemed to ignite a chemical change in the atmosphere of the entire room, as chilling as gathering storm clouds.

"Oh, _really_?" Most uncharacteristically, Kiku's voice had risen sharply. "And how much will you pay him? How on _earth_ will you be able to take care of him?"

"I will pay him," from his pocket, Alfred took out a thick wad of bills, "whatever makes Yao happy."

Kiku stared at the money, speechless. "Arthur is absolutely, unquestionably willing to pay whatever is necessary," Alfred declared. As though to drive home the point, he tossed another wad onto the scratched desk top.

"How much is in here?" Kiku demanded, picking up one stack, his face alight with astonishment.

"200,000 USD. And that's just a 20% advance." Watching the Japanese man's reaction to these words, Alfred grinned to himself. The nervousness had dropped from his voice. "While strong ties with other bathhouses are indeed essential, _our_ business will prove more beneficial to the Sacred Lotus in the end. I can have the rest, the full payment, by the end of the month."

"Kiku!" Yao exclaimed in disbelief. He had been watching the transaction unfold with panicked, shiny-wide eyes. "Please, at least give me some time to think about this."

"Hush," Kiku snapped at the younger boy, fingering through stack he had previously picked up.

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"You have by the end of the month to give me the rest of the payment," Kiku said firmly to the American. "No later."

"Wait!" Yao had fought his way over to the desk and was now clutching the Japanese man's sleeve. "You don't need his money. Please, don't give me away! I'll work harder and not take any more days off!"

"Yao," Kiku said in a low tone, which Alfred had never heard him use before.

"Don't give me away, Kiku! Not to _him_!"

"I'm here to _rescue_ you, Yao," Alfred cut in again, trying to hide his impatience.

"I don't _want_ to go with you!" Yao was kneeling before Kiku, clenching handfuls of Kiku's shirt. He stifled a sob of fear. "Haven't I been a good boy? Haven't I been good, sensei?" One tear welled in one golden eye and streaked his cheek; it was closely followed by several more. "Why is this _happening_ to me?" he lamented in a long wail.

"There is one stipulation," Kiku said, trying as gently as he could to extricate the panicked Yao from his shirt. Surreptitiously, he stuffed something that looked like a tissue into Yao's back trouser pocket. "He comes back here to the Lotus, twice a month. Every other weekend."

"KIKU!"

"Done."

"NO! Damn it, you make me sick!" Alfred sighed; the boy was now in the midst of a tantrum. The huge American man effortlessly scooped him up and held him fast in his arms. "Kiku!" Yao twisted his neck and spat towards the Japanese as he tried to smack at Alfred's face. "I thought we were going to take care of each other!"

"Be quiet," Alfred growled urgently at the flailing child in his arms. "I said be quiet!" He grabbed onto Yao's wrists; this was not difficult, as the child was apparently as frail as he initially appeared, and was also heaving with sobs. Kiku was averting his gaze; he looked a bit distraught as the child let out a screech like a siren.

"Be careful with him," Kiku said sharply. The sleeves of Yao's cheongsam had ridden up, exposing his skin. Alfred frowned as he noticed that the white flesh of Yao's forearm had been bruised blue with his finger-marks.

"I'll be in touch with you later," Alfred said as he gathered the little prostitute in his arms, and turned away towards the front entrance.

"I'm rescuing you," Alfred proclaimed firmly, as he carried the boy bridal-style out the front doors of the Sacred Lotus. "You'll see in time—you won't believe your good fortune. I'm your rescuer, see?" Alfred peered at the beautiful little face, still lovely in spite of the tear-marks, cradled within the crook of his arms. "I'm your… your champion."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Four years ago._

"It is almost as though you _attract_ these people." Yong-Soo, the prematurely-tall Korean boy, was bending down, whispering softly to the little Chinese boy. The three brothers—Yong-Soo, Kiku, and Yao were on the floor, head-to-head so that they formed a semicircle, crouched over yet another illegibly scrawled, non-coherent letter that had been addressed to Yao. There was no return address on the envelope. "These strange, sad bastards," Yong-Soo continued, peering deeply at the angry, rambling, wording that consisted of run-on sentences comprising a negligible amount of sense. "Why would they want to have anything to do with _you_?"

"It's your fault," Kiku said, holding up the letter, glaring into Yao's eyes. "You must be a viper of some sort."

"It's _not_ his fault. Don't be stupid, Kiku."

"He's being followed, remember?" Kiku replied, directing his glare towards Yong-Soo.

The smallest boy remained silent, watching them, fear dancing in his gold colored eyes. With squared shoulders, Yong-Soo crumpled up the letter and pushed it aside. Kiku suddenly rose to his feet, taking hold of the little boy's wrist as he stood. "Let's get ready for my bath," he announced. Ignoring Yong-Soo's suspicious glare, he led Yao over to the far end of the corridor.

This was one of their little routines. After washing, Kiku liked for Yao to massage his scalp and detangle his still-wet hair with a fragrant comb made of balsa wood. When the boy was younger, perhaps around four or five, Yao would normally wait patiently outside until the sounds of water running would cease, and then he would head inside to give his older brother his massage. But now, even though Yao was already ten, more and more often Kiku would instead pull him inside, and they would end up taking baths together. The Japanese boy was so blasé about the change in routine that it had never occurred to Yao to protest.

"Yao, did you talk to anyone today?" Kiku was saying. He started to undress.

"Besides you and Yong-Soo, no."

"I mean besides me and Yong-Soo. What about yesterday?"

"No." The Chinese boy squirmed, as Kiku removed his trousers. "Let me guess. You don't really believe in that sort of thing, do you?"

"That you're being followed?" Kiku turned around, an unreadable expression in his eyes; under the weight of his gaze, Yao felt as though he were being physically dragged down to a heavy depth. Kiku had the edges of Yao's shirt in his fingers. Yao closed his eyes as he loosened and raised his arms so that it could be slipped off.

_When I was only four or five months old, my mother brought me to the house of an old Chinese fortune-teller in the village. Paying the fee, she asked the older man to reveal the fate of the child within her arms, who was given the name Yao._

_After analyzing the four components of time, the news that came was completely unexpected. The old fortune-teller said that my soul was being accompanied and followed—by __another__ soul, that is. It wasn't clear whose soul it belonged to, or what the other soul wanted from me, but the old fortune-teller adamantly swore that I was being doggedly chaperoned wherever I went._

"Lift your right leg," Kiku was directing Yao. Clutching the child's shoulder for leverage, he removed Yao's pants too.

"_What should I do?" my panicked mother had demanded, clutching me closely. After leaving the old fortune-teller's dwelling, she gathered up my relatives at her house. For the next couple of hours, they performed the proper rituals for warding off the unwelcome soul. But it didn't appear to work._

At first, the bath started normally. After lathering and rinsing himself off, Kiku lathed Yao's head, running his fingers through the boy's scalp; the abundant locks of black hair fell against his neck and shoulders. Kiku gathered handfuls of warm water as he helped Yao wash his back, letting the hot soapy water trickle down before scrubbing the skin hard. Right before it started to hurt, he stopped.

"You don't really believe in that sort of thing, right?" Yao asked him again, because he had seemed to ignore the question the first time it was asked.

An exasperated sigh. "Just let me concentrate. _Yoroshii_?"

_The first incident occurred the very next month. I was nearly abducted by one of the old nurses who had been living at my mother's for a while, who had come to take care of me. She had apparently gone mad and thought I was her own dead child that had been reincarnated. If Kiku hadn't been heading to bed early after dinner, stricken with a headache, and had caught her in my bedroom, who knew where I would be today._

_The next incident occurred when I was still a little boy. A tall French gentleman saw me playing in the village square with some friends, and came right over, offering us sweets. My friends scattered the moment he grew irritated after we declined, and he targeted me. After biting the large hand that had grasped mine and shouting for help, a gaggle of adults passing by, already made wary by the presence of the foreign stranger, made a beeline for us. The Frenchman cursed and let go of my hand, disappearing into the crowded streets. I ran home afterwards._

Yao snapped out of his reverie, his posture stiffening once more. A firm lay on his back, and he felt himself being roughly pushed forward and down the next moment. Pushed onto his hands and knees. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"Relax," Kiku answered calmly, holding him down while wiping a lock of hair off the child's upturned face. "I need to wash down there."

"What! No!" the Chinese boy protested, struggling. "I can do it myself!"

The hands hesitated, but Yao felt them leave his back in the next instant, along with the stifling weight. "All right." There was a cool breeze, and Yao heard the shower door open and slam shut.

Shivering, he turned off the water. Yao waited, counting to ten to make sure that Kiku had left and that he would be alone to dress. However, the minute Yao came out, he felt a large towel being wrapped slackly around his shoulders. "You'll catch pneumonia if you don't dry off right away," Kiku was saying as he toweled the boy off and tried to muffle his protests.

When he sat on his stool so that Yao could start lacing his long fingers through the shiny black helmet of hair, Kiku's hand shot out, grabbing the boy's wrist. "Wait. Explain something to me."

"What?" the Chinese boy said apprehensively.

"Who's 'Arthur?'"

"…Who?"

"I said. _Who's Arthur_?" Kiku spoke very impatiently, as though to a dim-witted child. He wasn't letting go of the wrist. With wide eyes, Yao answered honestly, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"I don't know any Arthurs. That's a foreigner's name."

"Don't play dumb. Tell the truth. Last night, you were yelling for 'Arthur, Arthur, please,' in your sleep."

"…I _was_?"

Kiku was talking faster, more agitatedly now. "That wasn't all. 'Don't spend it, don't spend any of it,' you also said, and 'I rue the day you came.' And 'let me go.'" At that, the fingers around the boy's wrist tightened. "You screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear."

The Chinese boy felt his face blanch, and wracked his head in scrambling to come up with some sort of rational explanation. "Maybe I read the name of a character in one of your books," he murmured. "I read an awful lot of your books, you know."

His Japanese brother had twisted his head to look up at Yao, studying his face intently. After a moment, he suddenly turned around, abruptly releasing him. Very deliberately, the Japanese boy reached out and lightly touched Yao's waist. The Chinese boy slowly let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Yao, listen to me," Yao nearly jumped at the change in his voice; it was as though he were now soothing a sick animal. "You are my brother. I love you. You have always been such a well-behaved little thing, and a willing student. You are innocent and unpolluted—like my little peony flower."

The boy's jaw was hanging open. Kiku had never, ever spoken to him this way before, had never even remotely hinted at using the kind of vocabulary he was using now. He didn't stop as he caressed Yao's bare thigh, his half-frozen body. "Don't ever try to be friendly to strangers, especially foreign ones."

"I don't approach them on my own," Yao said, in a strange, cautious voice as he realigned his body much closer to his brother's.

"Don't ever trust them," Kiku continued, looking straight into the wide golden eyes as Yao's lids lowered and he began to pant. The Japanese boy's pupils were like shining orbs of obsidian. "Only me. Your family. Do you understand?"

"Yes…"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

"Wake up kid!"

Yao blinked as the hot sunlight hit the thin folds of his lids through the vehicle window. His eyes blurred and he rubbed at them; his skull felt as though it would burst.

Jerking his head, he realized it had been resting snugly in Alfred's lap—and what's more, his hand had apparently been clutching the American's shirt. With his jaw hanging open, he bolted upwards to a half-sitting, half-crouching position.

The large face of the American in front of him swam in and out of focus, then sharpened fantastically, like a photograph being developed in a pool of silver nitrate. "Just in time, kid. Your new home," the tall blond man was saying, smiling at him from eyes to mouth.

Outside, Yao could hear gravel crunching. Shaking, the boy peered out the window. He saw a fancy, well-kept lawn, and attendants milling about tending to it; as he glanced a little past all that, his guts turned to stone. Leading up from the lawn, the gray Victorian-manor type house that loomed over a large courtyard looked unwelcome, eerily foreboding. Horrid.

Pulling himself back inside, he could scarcely prevent himself from hyperventilating.

"I'm sorry I had to drug you," Alfred's voice came crashing onto the little Chinese boy's ears, like dull thudding bells. "but I didn't want you to hurt yourself. Besides, we got here OK."

Yao's golden eyes glittered with warm tears as a sob rose in his throat. His mind scrambled to regain some concept of time. The memories of what he had gone through earlier that day were beginning to assault his senses, and he glared in response.

"Come _on_," Alfred insisted, sweating as he grabbed Yao's wrist. The kid was looking positively gorgeous against the backdrop of the giant Victorian mansion. Thoughtlessly, he reached out and wiped at Yao's wet face with the sleeve of his bomber jacket.

"Take me back home," Yao said tersely as Alfred withdrew his sleeve.

"I thought you might say that. Look, this _is_ your home now. Just be a good boy and get out of the car."

"No. Get your hands off me." Yao's eyes bulged as Alfred increased the pressure of the talon-like grip on his wrist. "Help!" he cried. "Kiku!"

"Calm down."

"Kiku! KIKU!"

The next thing Yao realized, a set of lips was crushing against his tiny mouth. Yao cried out as he opened his eyes wide, and a tongue was pushed in aggressively. Alfred's expression was dark and the Chinese boy instinctively, weakly kissed him back.

After pulling away, breaking the kiss, Alfred opened his mouth, his words coming out slowly. "I _bought_ you. You're mine, don't you get that?"

"I'm Kiku's," Yao's voice, though low, was shrilly within an octave of hysteria. He pointedly wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I'll never be y—"

Alfred's hands grew cold and he lifted his right one as though preparing to strike; immediately, Yao closed his mouth as his whole body shuddered, but he refused to break his glare. At the sight of the frightened little boy, the brilliant blue of Alfred's eyes softened, and he sighed.

"Look. It's been a long ride, hasn't it, little one?" Alfred tried to soften his tone, to reason with the child. "Don't you need to use the restroom?"

Yao squirmed, but what Alfred said was true. The pain in his lower abdomen was becoming unbearable.

"Just come up here for a little while and let me show you around." Glancing down at the outstretched palm on the seats, Yao's hesitant hand disappeared into Alfred's huge fist. The American's hand was so sinewy and strong, Yao felt like a rag doll within his grasp.

The minute Yao was out of the vehicle, he cried out as his arms were wrenched forward and a long, muscular arm wound hard around his slender waist. Alfred's dusky, unshaven jaw pressed against his own smooth cheek as Yao felt the American breathing against his body, and Yao crushed his fingers weakly against the hard torso as he was lifted upwards. Behind him, the door was slammed shut.

The Chinese boy cracked open an eyelid to glimpse several of the lawn attendants staring baldly at the sight of him being carried in Alfred's arms as they traipsed towards the door. Alfred seemed to be ignoring most of the looks he gathered; one or two even hastened forward as though to assist him, but the American waved them off.

"Be more careful there, Yank." Yao tensed as he heard a gruff, unfamiliar voice speak out. His ears perked up in curiosity at the sound; his senses became taut in high alertness.

Alfred didn't even turn his head to address the speaker. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"You're suffocating him, _da_?"

"Get back to work, Ivan. Now!"

The front door was simply nudged open as Alfred padded through the cold foyer. He paused only to wipe his feet, and then they were on the move. Up the steps of a long, winded staircase.

* * *

Yao lowered his head in the sink. The bathroom back at the studio he and Kiku shared at the Sacred Lotus was smaller and leakier and had older equipment, but it had been more properly heated than this room, as well as _brighter_, somehow. Everything about this house was nothing short of dingy and depressing. He hiccupped, and wiped his mouth with the tail end of his shirt, which had previously been tucked in his trousers.

A crumpled object fell out of his pocket as he tugged his shirt upwards, landing softly on the linoleum. Glancing down, Yao realized it was the tissue Kiku had stuffed there earlier that morning, when he had been tearfully protesting his own sales transaction—

He peered closer.

The "tissue" was a scrap of plain paper, with writing on it. The handwriting did not look immediately like Kiku's—it seemed it had been done in a hurry— but the script was familiar enough.

_Play along & give him what he wants for now._

_Be a good little peony._

_Trust me. _

_Love, K. _

Yao re-folded the scrap along its original order of creases as somebody started suddenly banging on the door.

When there was no response, Alfred simply unlocked the latch and barged in as Yao was patting down his hair in front of the mirror. Chuckling to himself, Alfred reached out, pulling the boy back outside. He scooped him up.

When they arrived at the door of what was obviously the master bedroom, Alfred abruptly set Yao down and knocked.

"Who is it?"

Yao's blood ran cold. _That voice_.

"Somebody is here to see you," the American replied, and at his waist, Yao suddenly clutched hard onto the American's jacket, jostling his stance in the process. Alfred peered down at Yao in pure astonishment.

The door swung open. Yao's head whipped around in time to witness Alfred being bodily shoved aside, his back colliding with the side wall, and one bony hand, smaller than Alfred's yet much larger than his own, grappling his forearm. The door slammed shut as the Chinese boy was whisked inside in one motion.


	5. Chapter 5

"_What the hell has gotten into you?" Alfred snapped as Arthur paced the floor. "A couple of days ago, that little brat—Yao Wang—he didn't exist. Now, here you are, your fists __**clenched**__, half-willing to kill for him!"_

"_You don't understand," Arthur replied, and Alfred raised an eyebrow, for there wasn't even an "imbecile," or "dolt," or some breed of insult tacked at the end of that sentence. "When I was in that room, in that little Chinese boy's room... I…. I came to life while I was with him. Don't you see? Arthur Kirkland has been dead these past five years, give or take a couple…"_

* * *

_NO_! _NonoNONOnononono_—

"Don't be nervous," Arthur was saying softly as he lifted the boy's shirt.

Yao was completely rigid with fear, goosebumps forming all over the pale, perfect skin. The boy was awkwardly lying spread-eagle on the dark sheets; one gangly, white naked leg was raised up in the air as the British man loomed over him. Arthur patted his cheek; as the rough palm caressed the side of his contorted face, Yao tried as hard as he could to disguise the murder in his golden eyes.

_Be a 'good little peony_,' Kiku's voice echoed in his racing mind. _Be a good, little_—

Yao tipped his head in submission, softening his tone as much as he could. "Please, sir," he started quietly, through clenched teeth, "may I—" He stopped short as the hand, as though growing in boldness, moved away from his face and began stroking Yao's long hair, his shoulders…

The world went dark as he was being kissed full, on the mouth. Arthur didn't release him for the longest time, and when they finally broke apart, the Englishman smiled. The Chinese boy's full, soft lips were like segments of sweet, warm orange. "I've missed you." The throaty, accented voice sounded dry, and hoarse, but also unmistakably tender. "And now—" The Englishman suddenly leered. "Here you are." The boy felt soft lips descend near his ear, burrowing in the strands of his hair.

"My angel."

The hands had traveled down his back and were clawing his buttocks. As his control slipped, segments of Yao's long, brutal training by Kiku slowly set in: physically, he felt himself almost wanting the other man, almost wanting him to want him.

"Have _you_ missed _me_?" Arthur was obviously savoring every moment of this as Yao panted. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen… and so young…"

_You're behaving like the real brute I remembered you to be, greedily devouring every last morsel of my innocence_, Yao wanted to shoot at him, but before he could say a thing, his trousers were pooled around his ankles, and the Englishman's hands encircled his hips. "When are you going to put me out of my misery?" he demanded as he slipped his hand down the child's back, groping for his entrance. Yao shook his head desperately as he tried to fight his rising arousal.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he heard a command. The Chinese boy's face was burning in humiliation. Arthur's hands were around his hips, holding him in place as he fingered him. Arthur frowned as his fingers slid in; the boy had been stretched since they'd last met.

* * *

"_Does… I mean, uh, are you… are you feeling well?" Alfred's voice was incredulous; yet, deeply cautious not to offend. "Because you're not exactly making any sense at all."_

"_I'm not sounding like I'm making any sense because I haven't been completely upfront with you." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck as he turned around to look the American in the face. "I work eighty-hour weeks at the company and when I get home, I overeat until I'm too tired to keep my eyes open— but even then I have trouble sleeping. Alfred, I hardly have dreams anymore, because I'm an insomniac. I haven't missed the late-night show in years."_

"_What does that have anything to do with buying that Chinese kid?"_

"_I like you and trust you, Alfred, I know that you feel the same way. But what I __**crave**__ is… well, a lover. You might not know this about me, Alfred, but… I'm…. I'm pretty lonely."_

* * *

"What?" the Englishman said as he ceased his ministrations.

"What do you want from me?" Yao whispered again, the tears in the corners of his eyes threatening to fall from their precipice.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, dear," Arthur replied, one hand still planted on Yao's sharp hip.

"What do you want from me? Who _are_ you?" Yao's voice increased in volume as he shrank back. "Why did you stalk me for so long, and tear me away from my home and everything I know? Why _me_, when there are so many other available boys at the Sacred Lotus?"

The prominent eyebrows on the Englishman's face had furrowed in what appeared to be utter befuddlement; meanwhile, his grasp on Yao's body slackened as the boy grew more and more worked up, sliding his body away sideways.

"I-I want to go home." Yao started to sob in earnest, and raised his eyes to gaze into the saddened, bottle-green ones before him. "Wh—what do you have against me? Why do you hate me so?"

"I love you!" Arthur cried.

Yao's tears stopped then, and his lower lip trembled like jelly. Arthur was no longer on the bed. He was on his knees; one hand was cupping the child's face and the other was grasping his bony little shoulder.

"You understand? I love you!"

_(-"You understand that I love you, Yao," Kiku was saying as he caressed the boy's bare thigh there in the bathroom, and Yao was not sure why but he felt a sliver of a promise of erotic fulfillment embodied by Kiku's sentence.)_

"Wh—"

"From the moment I met you, I knew—I can't go on without you!" Arthur had risen to his feet.

The boy felt himself being pushed roughly, yet affectionately, onto his back, and the blanket falling around them. There was a soft rustling sound as Arthur pulled the boy close, squeezing his arms around his waist. Yao's hair was so fragrant; it was the sweetest perfume in the world as he kissed the boy's shoulder. "Forgive me, Yao. I'll take care of you from now on," he was whispering, fitting himself against the tiny body. "I promise. You'll forget all about that awful whorehouse. I will make you the happiest boy in the world."

Arthur hugged the Chinese boy close to him. "As long as you… well, as long as you remember who you belong to… but do not worry, for I will teach you… "

As the stubbled jaw nuzzled his neck, Yao turned his head away and found he was facing a large ornate French window. Below, he could glimpse exactly one story downwards towards the yard; two straight rows of workers, keeping their eyes downcast, milled about in a low-key manner as they trimmed the bushes.

One striking figure broke that perfect symmetry. Wielding a pair of clippers, the tallest person on the lawn, draped in what appeared to be a long scarf despite the heat of midday, was standing nearly perfectly still. He was staring straight at the boy.

The boy blinked. Was that tall man truly looking at him? Or was he checking out something else, perhaps the cracks in the awning over the house?...

No. That piercing violet gaze was holding him hostage now, with an expression that he could not decipher. At the same time, a tiny inkling of a plan was sprouting in the boy's childish head.

Then he was being pulled back. Arthur was kissing him again, ruffling the black mane as he did so. Hesitating at first, Yao gradually uncoiled his body, stretching like a cat. At the generous gesture, Arthur smiled widely and positioned himself along the Chinese boy's long, slender body. "What do you think, love? What is on your mind?"

Yao cleared his throat before speaking, the long white stretch of skin bobbing once as Arthur gazed at him in naked anticipation. "It is a very lovely home," Yao started, smiling back at the Englishman. Arthur beamed.

"All of it—my wealth, my bed; it's for you," he could barely contain his excitement. "I've thought of everything—you have your own bath, dressing-room, study... we can go exploring later if you'd like!"

"I'd love that. I am very excited," Yao replied with an appreciative purr. "You have been most kind and generous to me."

Yao had seen countless men melt before his ministrations during the boy's various appointments at the Sacred Lotus, but never so utterly and completely as the hot blond disarray before him.

"You mean it?" Arthur fawned. "It's for you alone. For _us_, alone."

"I feel as though my birthday has come."

"Sweet Jesus, it just occurred to me that I don't know when your birthday is!"

"To be honest, I don't know either."

"Well—what better way to symbolize the beginning of eternal love… I declare that _this_ will be your birthday!"

A radiant grin spread along Arthur's face as he lowered himself between the boy's legs. His own trousers were bulging as he coated two fingers in lubricant and slid them in between Yao's cheeks. "I'll have Alfred show you your new bedroom," he said as he entered the boy. "It's going to be next to mine…" He closed his eyes, shuddering in pleasure.

"But master," Yao gasped as the man pushed in and out of him, "what about my clothes and belongings back at the Sacred—"

"Clothes?" Arthur was seconds away from bursting. "You don't need those old things, I'll take you shopping for a new wardrobe," he groaned in mid-thrust. "I'll … give you … all you need…" And he spurted his seed inside of Yao.

* * *

Alfred was waiting inside Yao's new bedroom with armfuls of new gifts when Yao staggered inside, bow-legged, wincing and clutching himself. "I've been waiting for you, kid."

"Me, too." Yao quietly closed the door.

"Huh? You have?" Alfred exclaimed, surprise written all over his round face.

"Yes. What I said. I have a proposition for you." Yao looked straight into the sky-blue eyes. "I believe we can help each other out."


	6. Chapter 6

Yao half-expected the other man to brush off and ignore his words, pretend as though he hadn't heard anything; or, thrash the Chinese boy's face and reprimand him for his mischief. He'd even braced himself for the possibility that Alfred would turn around to tell Arthur on him straightaway, whereupon he planned to deny everything.

Instead, the next words coming from Alfred's mouth were, "I'm listening." As Yao stood there looking slightly astounded, Alfred dropped the bundle of gifts onto Yao's narrow bed. He crossed his arms, staring at the boy as he presumably waited.

"My brother used to talk about you," Yao glanced backwards to make sure the door was properly shut behind him. "You two were very close once."

"What's that?"

"But Kiku broke it off with you, very suddenly, once he decided to open a business in London."

Alfred kept his mouth shut; those bright, frosty-blue irises followed the Chinese's every movement as Yao continued. "I remember the night you two parted, actually, even though I was very small."

"_What_ do you remember?" Alfred demanded sharply without thinking.

"The walls shaking with all the screaming and crying and arguing, the sounds of furniture being broken, and a lot of curse words being thrown around. Kiku had locked me in my room, but I broke out and ran to the top of the loft to watch you two fight from the second floor. To make sure nobody killed each other." Yao paused momentarily, swallowing. "But I had just reached the top step when Kiku pulled out a gun, cocked it, fired at you—"

Alfred crossed the entire length of the room in two strides, ready to grab at the boy's shirt.

"—it swept past your ear and went straight into the wall behind you," Yao dodged the American's swipe at him as he finished. Alfred froze. "Afterwards, you two ended up fucking each other's brains out for the next three days."

Inwardly wincing at the small, innocent looking boy's casual use of such a vulgar word, Alfred's lips curved into a sarcastic smile. "How very cute of you to recall lessons in ancient history. Now, what does this have to do with anything?"

"You kissed me in the car because I remind him of you, isn't that it?"

"Hmmm?" Alfred's eyebrows disappeared into his blunt bangs. "That's cute that you think such things, except you're wrong. Honestly, kid, I have to admit that, on a superficial level, you are more beautiful. Your skin is like a newly unwrapped bar of ivory soap; your hair is like satin, your body seems untouchabl—"

"Do you want him back? Or do you want revenge, for how he left you?" Yao began to pace the room. "I've been obedient to him and done everything he's told me to, all my life, ever since I was old enough to walk. I don't like the way he simply transacted me away without a second thought, as though I were a slab of meat at the market, or a share of stock."

Alfred interjected somewhat defensively, "But I _rescued_ y—"

"But you see," Yao cut him off again, "that is just how Kiku is. His primary obsession in life does not concern anything other than his finances. You know it too, don't you? I know it hurt when he left. His unconcern for your feelings in particular, was just a part of his overall general unconcern for the well-being of others around him."

Alfred's expression had begun to darken. "Get to the point, kid."

"But if you were to become the head of the wealthiest, most powerful company in Europe, Kirkland Enterprises—if you were to become the CEO," Yao resumed, "I would think even Kiku would be impressed. Power is an aphrodisiac to him… he might even be inclined to fall back into your arms, which I know you want; although, I'm sure you'd teach him a sharp lesson first before taking him back."

"How did you know all this about Kirkland Enterprises?" Alfred demanded suddenly.

"Arthur told me, back in the bedroom."

Alfred pursed his lips. Him and his cousin were indeed friendly rivals who were both in the running for reining control of the entire company, but he would never have thought Arthur would be so foolish as to spill everything to this child he barely knew. And on the first day of their reunion, no less.

"As of now, Arthur has a higher chance of becoming CEO," Yao said bluntly. "You have equal managerial experience, and are both well-liked, but he's the one who's currently CFO. Furthermore, from what I gather, he is generally far better with numbers than you are."

"Uh," Alfred said.

"But if you cooperate with me, then I can relay what I learn from him and forward it to you. All his client lists. All his business strategies. His secrets."

Alfred smirked. Yao's eyebrows furrowed as the American stood up slowly, brushing off his pants as he approached, his bulky shadow encompassing the figure of the boy. As the American leered over him, Yao suddenly felt as small as an insect. "That's adorable. You don't think I have an entire program directed towards placing me on the ladder of promotion, which was put together by teams of professionals with the highest credentials in the country? You think I _need_ your help in becoming CEO of a company I've worked for in my entire adult life? _You_, a little, tiny, under-aged critter plucked from the mean streets of the poorest part of the Guandong region of China?"

"Yes," Yao replied as firmly as he could, between gnawing at his knuckles.

"How about this, you devious, conniving, know-it-all brat," Alfred reached down, placing a large, strong hand onto Yao's shoulder. "Here's _my_ proposal. We'll pretend this little exchange never happened, as long as you agree to be my new secret girlfriend and offer up that body of yours whenever I say."

"I haven't told Arthur about your 'little' stunt in the car," Yao spoke in a firm voice despite the trembling of his sweaty palms.

Alfred halted, and as his face went ugly, Yao didn't stop talking. "And I'm not afraid of you."

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. Alfred seized hold of Yao's arm, pulling him forward so that the boy's cheek collided with his chest. "Let's continue this heart to heart on a more _intimate_ level, shall we? See, Arthur asked me earlier today to shower you with all this crap," Alfred seethed as he dragged Yao to the bed; with one wide sweep of his arm, the gift boxes flew to the ground. "But allow me give you a very special present you won't be able to find anywhere else."

"Y-you can't—you don't want to do th—"

In response, he was thrown violently onto the bed. Yao's back hit the bedspread as Alfred gathered up his tie in one hand, roughly ripping the material off from around his neck. The American seized Yao's shoulders, pushing him downwards, and climbed on top of him so that the Chinese boy was crushed against his deep chest.

"Stop! I'll scream for Arthur!"

"Do that. Cry. Cry and scream. I'll tell Arthur that you were the one who seduced me. He's so batshit, he might just buy it." Yao could feel the hard prick nuzzling for entry against the crevice of his thin legs, and his voice froze deep in this throat.

"You're wiggling," Alfred whispered, slightly amused, ignoring the glint of terror in the boy's eyes. Indeed, Yao was utterly terrified, on a level that perversely went deeper than even the primal fear of rape; it might have stemmed from the utter disharmony of their incongruous bodies—even lying fitted with one another, like this—and disorderly voices seemed to be simultaneously shouting and whispering in his head. Alfred hooked his fingers under the boy's chin and guided it towards his lips.

"Oooh," Yao whimpered miserably before Alfred went in for the kill.

Keeping their lips locked, Alfred groped Yao's leg, his inner thigh, and the curve of his ass. As they kissed, Yao kept his eyes wide open, his pupils continuously darting across the room as though in shock, confused about what to do next. "Stop, stop. STOP," his voice came out as a croak when Alfred released their lips; moist and rosy imprints remained. "What about Arthur?" he demanded, nearly hyperventilating. "What are you _doing_ to him?"

"Brat, since when have you started caring?"

"He loves you as family! You'd be a traitor to Arthur. What you're doing is against…" Panic-stricken, he racked his sharp little efficient machine of a cranium. What did he know of Western cultures, from his array of diverse clientele? What would frighten the American the most? "It is against his will! It's against _Heaven's_ will!"

Alfred chortled, a maniacal sound. "Heaven, is that what you speak of? Let me teach you something. The people of Heaven feel nothing, except love. And _here_ we feel nothing but love, don't we, little _Yao_?" his voice tapered off as he closed the gap in between them again, flicking his tongue onto the boy's face. "The most wonderful… endless… perfect… love…"

Alfred's cock was thick and hurt as he pushed Yao down on it, heedless of the boy's cries as Alfred kneeled beneath him. One hand reached out to rub under one of the boy's nipples, and which was then squeezed painfully between a thumb and forefinger. As the child sobbed and writhed in his lap, Alfred's head came forward and he licked the hardened nub. "Mmm," Alfred moaned; Yao tossed his head back, wilting, surrendering, as Alfred began to gently stroke his member.


End file.
